


Watch Me

by veeagainst



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veeagainst/pseuds/veeagainst
Summary: @direwolfsummer requested 2 prompts over on tumblr, so I smashed them into two:2. "Every time he/she/they speaks French I lose it. And when I say lose, I mean mainly my pants."21. "Don't you dare." "Watch me."
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	Watch Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DirewolfSummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirewolfSummer/gifts).



'Is the translator late?'

Remus Lupin, newly and he thinks precariously hired, blinks twice, rapidly, at his boss. He licks his lips and asks, 'Sorry?'

'The translator.' Warren looks down at his watch and grimaces. 'Monsieur Crieff is late too, so no worry - yet.'

'Monsieur?' Remus hadn't caught that part two days ago, when he'd booked the room for the meeting and purchased two perfect glass bottles of water to set out during it, one sparkling and one still. 

Warren is ignoring him and partially unfurling a long scroll of parchment. 'Tsk, Lupin, you've got a quill for notes, right?' 

'Oh, um, let me just,' Remus says, and then he nearly runs down the corridor, breaking into a trot once he's whipped around the corner and out of Warren's sight. Down two flights of stairs, and into his office, and he might as well just pack it in right now, grab his cloak and his new leather briefcase and never return - he fumbles the keys to the office, drops them, and notices the door is ajar.

'Moony?' 

Remus pushes the door open and receives the second shock of the day: Sirius Black, old school friend and co-conspirator in illegal Animagus- and werewolf-related activities, is sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the brand new blotter. 

'What are you doing here?'

'I thought I'd come take you out to lunch,' Sirius says. 'Celebrate your first week.'

Remus winces. 'How about we celebrate me leaving here and never coming back instead?'

'That bad, eh?' Sirius asks. 'James predicted this.' 

Remus doesn't mention that of course James, whose father got him a posh upper level position, would have predicted that to Sirius, who doesn't seem to even have to work and yet can swan around London on a Thursday taking friends to lunch. But, this is Sirius, the only person Remus has ever found it perfectly easy to talk to, so he tempers his annoyance and says, 'Actually I think I'm about to be fired.'

'What?' Sirius crashes down on the front legs of Remus's flimsy chair. A man imbued with even a fraction less charm would have broken the thing but Sirius lands perfectly. 'Why?'

'I was supposed to book a French translator for this meeting that's starting right about now,' Remus says grimly. 'C'mon, hand me my cloak. Let's bunk it.' 

'Oh,' Sirius says, 'well, that's all?'

'It's a very important meeting.'

Sirius stands up and straightens his leather jacket. 'Where's the meeting?'

'Upstairs.' Remus, thinking that this is merely a query for reconnaissance's sake, follows Sirius as he walks out the door and points towards the stairs. 'So if we just -'

Sirius pushes open the stairwell door and starts up, calling back, 'C'mon, Moony.'

Remus chases him, but Sirius has long legs, and it takes him a full flight to catch him. He grabs the back of his jacket and shoves him into the wall. Sirius manages to spin himself around so they are face to face when his back slams into it. 'What are you doing?' Remus hisses and, because he thinks he already knows the answer, 'Don't you dare.' 

'I'm helping out my friend,' Sirius says, out of breath. He licks his lips. 'Or did you really want to quit?'

Remus does really want to quit, but he also needs to earn a wage. 'Sirius, you can't translate!'

Sirius rolls his eyes. 'It can't be that hard.'

'It's in French!'

'Toujours pur, Moony,' Sirius replies, uncharacteristically cryptic. 'Watch me.' Remus frowns and Sirius pushes him away just as Warren opens the door above them. 

'Lupin?' he calls.

Remus meets Sirius's eyes and makes a rapid calculation. If this is some elaborate prank, well, Remus is fired anyway, so he might as well enjoy the ride. 'Just collecting the translator,' he calls back. 

Warren is clearly flustered by the brooding, leather-jacket-wearing Byronic hero that Remus leads into the meeting room, but Monsieur Crieff takes it stoically, especially after Sirius does the introductions in perfect, crisp Parisian French - at least, Remus assumes that is what happens. When Sirius says, 'Permettez-moi de vous présenter à Monsieur Lupin,' something fundamentally breaks in Remus's brain. It is not just that Sirius's mouth is spilling incomprehensible sounds, both lyrical and guttural at the same time, but that he is so attentive, staring straight into Remus's eyes with pale intensity whenever Remus is called upon to formulate some stumbling thought in English. 

At some point in the middle of the interminable meeting, Remus regains enough self-awareness to note that, even though Sirius is clearly excelling in his new role, Remus remains the same sweaty pit of anxiety that he has been since Warren first said the word 'translator'. 

What does that mean?

Sirius is turned slightly away from him, his head slightly tipped to one side as he concentrates on whatever Warren is saying - the phrase "crystal ball trade quota" floats through Remus's head as if on a cloud - and Remus notes how Sirius's fringe falls across his forehead, how his jawline is so clearly outlined, the slightest shadow of stubble sketching in the shape of his cheek and upper lip in the low light of the room. Sirius's long-fingered hands rest upon the table, the veins clear along his knuckles as he taps a finger in concentration.

My god, Remus thinks, horrified. If Sirius had applied himself to his studies at Hogwarts, would he have turned Remus into a ball of sweat and anxiety sooner?

And then he remembers, a long-buried memory: Sirius describing his Transfiguration method for the final stage of becoming an Animagus, his eyes alight and intense as he pronounced each hard, technical word. And that night, alone in his bed, with the curtains pulled tightly shut, Remus had touched himself and thought about that look on Sirius's face and the way he'd spoken those words... 

That had been five years and a LOT of wanking ago, and Sirius had never crossed his mind in that sacred setting again. 

Remus thinks, hysterically, that he has just realized a fetish for Sirius acting out of character. Or - as he watches the meeting go on, now feeling propelled by both events and what is quickly becoming clear is lust - for Sirius acting entirely in character. The real mask is nonchalant Sirius, anyone could see that, but he wears it so much that Remus sometimes forgets that there is even another Sirius under there. 

'Merci,' Sirius is saying, standing, hands are being shaken, Remus is stuttering out something and hoping his robes are hanging loosely enough to disguise his hard on, though a glance at Warren pretty much kills it anyway. 

Monsieur Crieff and his secretary leave, and Warren makes some small talk with Sirius that Remus can't follow. He waits for a break and says, 'Let me walk you out, Mr Black.' 

'Thank you,' Sirius says, inclining his head just the same way to Remus as he had in the meeting. As Remus leads him to the stairwell, he thinks - Sirius wouldn't have done that for James or Peter. Sirius would have played the prank. Gambling, he reaches out as Sirius reaches for the stairwell door and lets his hand slide down Sirius's bicep, hard under the leather sleeve. Sirius's eyes flick to Remus's face, then back to the door. 'After you,' he says, voice a notch deeper than Remus is used to. 

'Please,' Remus replies, opening the door, just a nonsense word in the context of this surface conversation, but a very real request in other, deeper senses. 

'Yes,' Sirius breathes, stepping through the door after him and letting it close. Remus turns to look at him and sees how bright his eyes are and - is that - is Sirius's hairline a little sweaty too? 

'Padfoot?' he asks, just to be sure, his heart pounding almost too loud to hear any response. 

'You wouldn't dare,' Sirius says softly. 

Remus steps close and puts one hand into Sirius's chest, stepping them gently back until Sirius is pressed into the wall. Sirius is shaking, very slightly but perceptibly under his hand. Remus leans in close to Sirius's mouth and whispers against it, 'Watch me.'


End file.
